1. Grammar of the Jataki Dialect, 1849.2. Remarks on Dr. Dorn's Chrestomathy of the Afghan Tongue, 1849.3. Reports on Sind addressed to the Bombay Government.4. Grammar of the Mooltanee Language.

15. Goa and Camoens.

He left Goa on 20th February 1847, taking as usual a pattymar,his mind vibrant with thoughts of his great hero, the "Portingall"Camoens, with whose noble epic all Western India, from Narsinga andDiu to Calicut is intimately associated. Passages from Camoens werefrequently in his mouth, and in bitterest moments, in the times ofprofoundest defection, he could always find relief in the pages ofhim whom he reverently calls "my master." Later in life he couldsee a parallel between the thorny and chequered career of Camoensand his own. Each spent his early manhood on the West Coast ofIndia [FN#74], each did his country an incalculable service: Camoensby enriching Portugal with The Lusiads, Burton by his travels and bypresenting to England vast stores of Oriental lore. Each receivedinsult and ill-treatment, Camoens by imprisonment at Goa, Burton bythe recall from Damascus. There was also a temperamental likenessbetween the two men. The passion for travel, the love of poetry andadventure, the daring, the patriotism of Camoens all find theircounterpart in his most painstaking English translator. Arrived atPanjim, Burton obtained lodgings and then set out by moonlight in acanoe for old Goa. The ruins of churches and monasteries fascinatedhim, but he grieved to find the once populous and opulent capital ofPortuguese India absolutely a city of the dead. The historicity ofthe tale of Julnar the Sea Born and her son King Badr [FN#75] seemedestablished, Queen Lab and her forbidding escort might have appearedat any moment. On all sides were bowing walls and tenantlesshouses. Poisonous plants covered the site of the Viceregal Palace,and monster bats hung by their heels at the corners of tombs.Thoughts of Camoens continued to impinge on his mind, and inimagination he saw his hero dungeoned and laid in iron writing hisLusiads. A visit to the tomb of St. Francis Xavier also deeplymoved him. To pathos succeeded comedy. There was in Panjim aninstitution called the Caza da Misericordia, where young ladies,for the most part orphans, remained until they received suitableoffers of marriage The description of this place piqued Burton'scuriosity, and hearing that it was not unusual for persons topropose themselves as suitors with a view to inspecting thecuriosities of the establishment, he and some companions repairedto the Caza. Having seen the chapel and the other sights hementioned that he wanted a wife. A very inquisitive duennacross-examined him, and then he was allowed to interview one of theyoung ladies through a grating, while several persons, who refusedto understand that they were not wanted, stood listening. Burton atonce perceived that it would be an exhausting ordeal to make love insuch circumstances, but he resolved to try, and a dialogue commencedas follows:

"Should you like to be married, senorita?"

"Yes, very much, senor."

"And why, if you would satisfy my curiosity?"

"I don't know."

The rest of the conversation proved equally wooden andunsatisfactory, and quotations from poets were also wasted.

"The maid, unused to flowers of eloquence, Smiled at the words, but could not guess their sense."

Burton then informed the duenna that he thought he could get onbetter if he were allowed to go on the other side of the grating,and be left alone with the demure senorita. But at that the oldlady suddenly became majestic. She informed him that before hecould be admitted to so marked a privilege he would have to addressan official letter to the mesa or board explaining his intentions,and requesting the desired permission. So Burton politely tenderedhis thanks, "scraped the ground thrice," departed with gravity,and in ten minutes forgot all about the belle behind the grille.It was while at Panhim, that, dissatisfied with the versions ofCamoens by Strangford [FN#76], Mickle and others, Burton commenceda translation of his own, but it did not reach the press forthirty-three years. [FN#77]

We next find him at Panany, whence he proceeded to Ootacamund,the sanitarium on the Neilgherries, where he devoted himself tothe acquisition of Telugu, Toda, Persian and Arabic, though ofteninterrupted by attacks of ophthalmia. While he was thus engaged,Sir Charles Napier returned to England (1847) [FN#78] and Sind wasplaced under the Bombay Government "at that time the very sink ofiniquity." [FN#79]

In September Burton visited Calicut--the city above all othersassociated with Camoens, and here he had the pleasure of studying onthe spot the scenes connected with the momentous landing of Da Gamaas described in the seventh and most famous book of the Lusiads.In imagination, like Da Gama and his brave "Portingalls," he greetedthe Moor Monzaida, interviewed the Zamorim, and circumvented thesinister designs of the sordid Catual; while his followerstrafficked for strange webs and odoriferous gums. On his returnto Bombay, reached on October 15th, Burton offered himself forexamination in Persian, and gaining the first place, was presentedby the Court of Directors with a thousand rupees. In the meantimehis brother Edward, now more Greek-looking than ever, had risen tobe Surgeon-Major, and had proceeded to Ceylon, where he wasquartered with his regiment, the 37th.

16. "Would you a Sufi be?"

Upon his return to Sind, Burton at first applied himself sedulouslyto Sindi, and then, having conceived the idea of visiting Mecca,studied Moslem divinity, learnt much of the Koran by heart and madehimself a "proficient at prayer." It would be unjust to regard thisas mere acting. Truth to say, he was gradually becomingdisillusioned. He was finding out in youth, or rather in earlymanhood, what it took Koheleth a lifetime to discover, namely,that "all is vanity." This being the state of his mind it is notsurprising that he drifted into Sufism. He fasted, complied withthe rules and performed all the exercises conscientiously. The ideaof the height which he strove to attain, and the steps by which hemounted towards it, may be fathered from the Sufic poet Jami.Health, says Jami, is the best relish. A worshipper will neverrealise the pure love of the Lord unless he despises the wholeworld. Dalliance with women is a kind of mental derangement.Days are like pages in the book of life. You must record upon themonly the best acts and memories.

"Would you a Sufi be, you must Subdue your passions; banish lust And anger; be of none afraid, A hundred wounds take undismayed." [FN#80]

In time, by dint of plain living, high thinking, and stiflinggenerally the impulses of his nature, Burton became a Master Sufi,and all his life he sympathised with, and to some extent practisedSufism. Being prevented by the weakness of his eyes from continuinghis survey work, he made a number of reports of the country and itspeople, which eventually drifted into print. Then came the stirringnews that another campaign was imminent in Mooltan, his heart leapedwith joy, and he begged to be allowed to accompany the force asinterpreter. As he had passed examinations in six native languagesand had studied others nobody was better qualified for the post orseemed to be more likely to get it.

17. Letter to Sarah Burton, 14th Nov. 1848.

It was while his fate thus hung in the balance that he wrote to hiscousin Sarah [FN#81] daughter of Dr. Francis Burton, who had justlost her mother. [FN#82] His letter, which is headed Karachi,14th November 1848, runs as follows:--"My dear cousin, I lose notime in replying to your note which conveyed to me the mournfultidings of our mutual loss. The letter took me quite by surprise.I was aware of my poor aunt's health having suffered, but neverimagined that it was her last illness. You may be certain that Ijoin with you in lamenting the event. Your mother had always beenone of my best relations and kindest friends; indeed she was theonly one with whom I kept up a constant correspondence during thelast six years. I have every reason to regret her loss; and you,of course, much more. Your kind letter contained much matter of aconsolatory nature; it was a melancholy satisfaction to hear that myexcellent aunt's death-bed was such a peaceful one--a fit conclusionto so good and useful a life as hers was. You, too, must derive nosmall happiness from the reflection that both you and your sister[FN#83] have always been dutiful daughters, and as such havecontributed so much towards your departed mother's felicity inthis life. In my father's last letter from Italy he alludes to thesad event, but wishes me not to mention it to my mother, adding thathe has fears for her mind if it be abruptly alluded to.

"At the distance of some 1,500 [FN#84] miles all we can do is resignourselves to calamities, and I confess to you that judging from thenumber of losses that our family has sustained during the last sixyears I fear that when able to return home I shall find no placecapable of bearing that name. I hope, however, dear cousin,that you or your sister will occasionally send me a line, informingme of your plans and movements, as I shall never leave to take thegreatest interest in your proceedings. You may be certain thatI shall never neglect to answer your letters and shall always lookforward to them with the greatest pleasure. Stisted [FN#85] is notyet out: his regiment is at Belgaum [FN#86], but I shall do my bestto see him as soon as possible. Edward [FN#87] is still in Ceylonand the war [FN#88] has ceased there. I keep this letter open forten or twelve days longer, as that time will decide my fate.A furious affair has broken out in Mooltan and the Punjaub and Ihave applied to the General commanding to go up with him on hispersonal staff. A few days more will decide the business--and I amnot a little anxious about it, for though still suffering a littlefrom my old complaint--ophthalmia--yet these opportunities are toofar between to be lost."

Unfortunately for Burton, his official respecting his investigationsat Karachi in 1845 was produced against him [FN#89], and he waspassed over [FN#90] in favour of a man who knew but one languagebesides English. His theory that the most strenuous exertions leadto the most conspicuous successes now thoroughly broke down, and thescarlet and gold of his life, which had already become dulled,gave place to the "blackness of darkness." It was in the midst ofthis gloom and dejection that he wrote the postscript which he hadpromised to his cousin Sarah. The date is 25th November, 1848.He says, "I am not going up to the siege of Mooltan, as the Generalwith whom I had expected to be sent is recalled. Pray be kindenough to send on the enclosed to my father. I was afraid to directit to him in Italy as it contains papers of some importance.You are welcome to the perusal, if you think it worth the trouble.I have also put in a short note for Aunt Georgiana. Kindly give mybest love to your sister, and believe me, my dear cousin, your mostaffectionate R. Burton."

Chagrin and anger, combined with his old trouble, ophthalmia, had bythis time sapped Burton's strength, a serious illness followed,and the world lost all interest for him.

18. Allahdad.

He returned to Bombay a complete wreck, with shrunken, totteringframe, sunken eyes, and a voice that had lost its sonority. "It iswritten," said his friends, "that your days are numbered, take ouradvice and go home to die." They carried him to his ship,"The Elisa," and as there seemed little hope of his reachingEngland, he at once wrote a farewell letter to his mother. With himas servant, however, he had brought away a morose but attentive andgood-hearted native named Allahdad, and thanks in part to Allahdad'sgood nursing, and in part to the bland and health-giving breezes ofthe ocean, he gradually regained his former health, strength,and vitality. At the time he regarded these seven years spent inSind as simply seven years wasted, and certainly his rewards wereincommensurate with his exertions. Still, it was in Sind that thefuture became written on his forehead; in Sind that he began tocollect that mass of amazing material which made possible hisedition of The Arabian Nights.

Chapter V 1849 to 3rd April, 1853 Chiefly Boulogne

Bibliography:

5. Goa and the Blue Mountains, 1851.6. Scinde; or the Unhappy Valley, 2 vols., 1851.7. Sindh, and the Races that Inhabit the Valley of the Indus, 1851.8. Falconry in the Valley of the Indus, 1852.9. Commencement with Dr. Steinhauser of The Arabian Nights, 1852.10. A complete System of Bayonet Exercise, 1853.

19. A Motto from Ariosto.

When "The Elisa" approached Plymouth, with its "turfy hills, woodedparks and pretty seats," Allahdad opened his eyes in wonderment."What manner of men must you English be," he said, "to leave sucha paradise and travel to such a pandemonium as ours withoutcompulsion?" On arriving in London, Burton called on his AuntGeorgiana,[FN#91] flirted with his pretty cousins Sarah and Elisa,attended to business of various kinds, and then, in company withAllahdad, set out for Italy to see his father and mother, who werestill wandering aimlessly about Europe, and inhaling now the breathof vineyard and garden and now the odours of the laboratory.He found them, his sister, and her two little daughters, Georgianaand Maria (Minnie) at Pisa, and the meeting was a very happy one.Burton's deep affection for his parents, his sister and his brother,is forced upon our notice at every turn; and later he came to regardhis nieces just as tenderly. Quoting Coleridge, he used to say:

"To be beloved is all I need, And whom I love I love indeed."[FN#92]

If Burton was thus drawn to those nearest of kin to him, so also hiswarm heart welled with affection for his friends, and for those whodid him kindnesses. "If you value a man or his work," he said,"don't conceal your feelings." The warmth of his affection for hisfriends Drake, Arbuthnot, and others, will be noticed as this bookproceeds. On one occasion, after a spontaneous outburst ofappreciation, he said in palliation of his enthusiasm, "Pardon me,but this is an asthenic age--and true-hearted men are rare."Presently we find him revisiting some of his old haunts. In hisyouth he had explored Italy almost from end to end; but the literaryassociations of the various towns were their principal charm.To him, Verona stood for Catullus, Brindisi for Virgil, Sorrentofor Tasso, Florence for "the all Etruscan three,"[FN#93] Dante,Petrarch, and Boccaccio, Reggio and Ferrara for Ariosto. It wasfrom Ariosto, perhaps through Camoens, who adopted it, that he tookhis life motto, "Honour, not honours"--

"'Tis honour, lovely lady, that calls me to the field, And not a painted eagle upon a painted shield."[FN#94]

All the Burton servants obtained some knowledge of Italian, evenAllahdad being soon able to swear fluently in it, and his aptitude,joined to a quarrelsome temper and an illogical prejudice againstall Italians, caused innumerable broils.

By and by the family returned to England and Miss Stisted thusdescribes the progress: "One of the earliest pictures in my memoryis of a travelling carriage crossing snow-covered Alps. A carriagecontaining my mother and uncle, sister and self, and English maid,and a romantic but surly Asiatic named Allahdad. Richard Burton,handsome, tall and broad-shouldered, was oftener outside thecarriage than in it, as the noise made by his two small niecesrendered pedestrian exercise, even in the snow, an agreeable andalmost necessary variety." Now and then he gave them bits of snowto taste, which they hoped might be sugar.[FN#95] On reachingEngland he sent Allahdad back to Bombay.

Much of the year 1850 was spent at Leamington and Dover, and in1851, Burton, accompanied by his brother Edward, crossed toBoulogne, where he prepared for publication his books, Goa, Scinde,Falconry in the Valley of the Indus, and Bayonet Exercise. Love ofa sort mingled with literature, for he continued variousflirtations, but without any thought of marriage; for he was stillonly a lieutenant in the service of John Company, and his prospectswere not rosy. We said "love of a sort," and advisedly, for wecannot bring ourselves to believe that Burton was ever frenziedlyin love with any woman. He was, to use his own expression,no "hot amortist." Of his views on polygamy, to which he haddistinct leanings, we shall speak later. He said he required two,and only two qualities in a woman, namely beauty and affection.It was the Eastern idea. The Hindu Angelina might be vacuous, vain,papilionaceous, silly, or even a mere doll, but if her hair hungdown "like the tail of a Tartary cow,"[FN#96] if her eyes were"like the stones of unripe mangoes," and her nose resembled the beakof a parrot, the Hindu Edwin was more than satisfied. Dr. Johnson's"unidead girl" would have done as well as the blue-stockingTawaddud.[FN#97]

20. Isabel Arundell & "My Dear Louisa." 1851.

It was during Burton's stay at Boulogne that he saw the handsomegirl who ten years later became his wife--Isabel, daughter ofMr. Henry Raymond Arundell. She was the eldest of a very largefamily. Just twenty, fair, "with yards of golden hair," dark blueeyes and a queenly manner, Isabel Arundell everywhere attractedattention. No portrait, it was said, ever did justice to hervirginal beauty. "When she was in any company you could look atno one else," the charm of her manner exceeded even the graces ofher person, but her education was defective, and she was amusinglysuperstitious. She could be heard saying at every turn: "This isa good omen; that a bad one; oh, shocking! the spoons are crossed;

By the pricking of my thumbs Something wicked this way comes."

Though not themselves wealthy, the Arundells were of noble lineage,and had rich and influential relations who prided themselves onbeing "old English Catholics." Among Miss Arundell's ancestors wasHenry, 6th Lord Arundell of Wardour; her grandfather and the 9thLord were brothers; and her mother was sister to Lord Gerard.

Isabel Arundell and Burton could have conducted their firstconversation just as well had they been deaf and dumb. Strolling onthe ramparts he noticed a bevy of handsome girls, one of whom,owing to her exceptional looks, particularly fired him, and havingmanaged to attract her attention, he chalked on a wall, "May I speakto you," and left the piece of chalk at the end of the sentence.She took it up and wrote under it, "No, mother will be angry."

She had, however, long pictured to herself an ideal husband, and onseeing Burton, she exclaimed under her breath: "That is the man!"She describes him as "five feet eleven inches in height, very broad,thin and muscular, with very dark hair, black, clearly defined,sagacious eyebrows, a brown, weather-beaten complexion, straightArab features, a determined-looking mouth and chin, nearly coveredby an enormous moustache; two large, black, flashing eyes, with longlashes," and a "fierce, proud, melancholy expression."[FN#98] In thewords of one of his friends, he had the eye of an angel, the jaw ofa devil. Also staying at Boulogne was a young lady for whom Burtonentertained a sincere affection, and whom he would probably havemarried but for the poorness of his outlook. "My dearLouisa,"[FN#99] as he called her, was a relative of Miss Arundell,and hearing what had occurred, she did Burton and Miss Arundell thekindness of formally introducing them to each other, Miss Arundellnever tried to attract Burton's attention--we have her word forthat--but wherever he went she went too; and she never lost anopportunity of accidentally crossing his path. She consideredsacred a sash which she wore when dancing with him, and sheremembered him specially in her prayers. Henceforward,one devouring desire occupied her mind. She wished--andpraiseworthily--to be Burton's wife. To him, on the other hand,she was but an ephemeral fancy--one of the hundred and fifty women--hisfair cousins in England and the softer and darker beauties ofFrance and Italy--to whom he had said tender nothings. Later,when Miss Arundell saw him flirting with another girl, a certain"Louise"[FN#100] (not to be confused with "my dear Louisa"),she bridled up, coloured to her brow-locks, called "Louise" "fast"and Louise's mother "vulgar." Naturally they would be.[FN#101]With "myosotis eyes," peachy cheeks and auburn hair, rolling overivory shoulders[FN#102], "Louise" was progressing admirably, when,unfortunately for her, there came in view a fleshy, vinous matron ofelephantine proportions, whom she addressed as "mother." The sightof this caricature of the "Thing Divine," to use Burton'sexpression, and the thought that to this the "Thing Divine" wouldsome day come, instantly quenched his fires, and when the mothertried to bring him to a decision, by inquiring his intentionsregarding her daughter, he horrified her by replying: "Strictlydishonourable, madam." "Englishmen," he reflected, "who arerestricted to one wife, cannot be too careful." Miss Arundellwas also jealous of "My dear Louisa," though unwarrantably, forthat lady presently became Mrs. Segrave; but she and Burton longpreserved for each other a reminiscitory attachment, and we shallget several more glimpses of her as this book proceeds.[FN#103]

Isabel Arundell was herself somewhat cheered by the prophecy of agipsy of her acquaintance--one Hagar Burton--who with couched eyesand solemn voice not only prognosticated darkly her whole career,but persistently declared that the romance would end in marriage;still, she fretted a good deal, and at last, as persons in lovesometimes do, became seriously indisposed. Without loss of timeher parents called in a skilful physician, who, with his experiencedeye, saw at once that it was indigestion, and prescribedaccordingly. Residing at Boulogne in 1851, was a French painternamed Francois Jacquand, who had obtained distinction by hispictures of monks, and "a large historical tableau representing thedeath chamber of the Duc d'Orleans." In an oil painting which hemade of Burton and his sister, and which is here reproduced for thefirst time, Burton appears as a pallid young military man, heavilymoustached, with large brown eyes[FN#104]; and his worn and somewhatmelancholy face is a striking contrast to the bright and cheerfullooks of his comely sister. Our portraits of the Misses Stisted arealso from paintings by Jacquand. Burton's habit of concealing hisailments which we noticed as a feature of his boyhood was asconspicuous in later life. "On one occasion," says Miss Stisted,"when seized with inflammation of the bladder, a fact he tried tokeep to himself, he continued to joke and laugh as much as usual,and went on with his reading and writing as if little were thematter. At last the agony became too atrocious, and he remarkedin a fit of absence 'If I don't get better before night, I shallbe an angel.' Questions followed, consternation reigned around,and the doctor was instantly summoned."

21. Forster FitzGerald Arbuthnot 1853.

When Burton first became acquainted with Forster FitzGeraldArbuthnot is uncertain; but by 1853, they were on terms of intimacy.Burton was then 32, Arbuthnot 20. Of this enormously important factin Burton's life--his friendship with Arbuthnot--no previous writerhas said a single word, except Lady Burton, and she dismisses thematter with a few careless sentences, though admitting thatArbuthnot was her husband's most intimate friend. Of the strengthof the bond that united the two men, and the admiration felt byArbuthnot for Burton, she had little idea. F. F. Arbuthnot,born in 1833, was second son of Sir Robert Keith Arbuthnot and Anne,daughter of Field-Marshal Sir John Forster FitzGerald, G.C.B.Educated at Haileybury, he entered in 1852 the Bombay Civil Service,and rose subsequently to the important position of "collector."A man of a quiet and amiable disposition, Arbuthnot never said anunkind word either to or about anyone. The sweetness and serenityof his manner were commented upon by all his friends; but like somany of your quiet men, he had a determination--a steady heroism,which made everything give way. Oppose Burton, and you wouldinstantly receive a blow aimed straight from the shoulder,oppose Arbuthnot and you would be pushed quietly and amiablyaside--but pushed aside nevertheless. A great idea had early possessedhim. He wanted to see as much attention paid to the literatures ofIndia, Persia and Arabia as to those of ancient Greece and Rome.All the famous books of the East, he said, should be translated intoEnglish--even the erotic, and he insisted that if proper precautionswere taken so that none but scholars could obtain them, no possibleharm could ensue.[FN#105]

"England," he wrote long after (1887), "has greater interests in theEast than any other country in Europe, and ought to lead the way inkeeping the world informed on all subjects connected with Orientalliterature. Surely the time has not arrived for her to take a backseat on that coach, and to let other nations do a work which sheought to do herself."[FN#106] The expression "on that coach,"by the by, was eminently characteristic of a man who plumed himselfon being a Jehu of Jehus. Hundreds of invaluable manuscriptswritten by poets and sages, he said, require to be translated intoEnglish, and the need of the day is an Oriental Translation Fund.A man of means, Arbuthnot was sometime later to apply his money tothe cause he had at heart; and year in, year out, we shall find himand Burton striking at the self-same anvil. Though there was aconsiderable difference in their ages, and though thousands of milesoften separated them, their minds were ever united, and they wentdown the stream of life together like two brothers.

Chapter VI 3rd April 1853 to 29th October 1854 Pilgrimage to Mecca

Bibliography:

11. The Kasidah (commenced).12. El Islam (commenced).

22. The Man Wants to Wander.

Much of his time at Boulogne Burton devoted to fencing; and to hisinstructor, M. Constantin, he paid glowing tributes. He thoroughlymastered the art, defeated all antagonists, whether English orFrench, earned his "brevet de pointe for the excellence of hisswordsmanship, and became a Maitre d' Armes." As horseman,swordsman, and marksman, no soldier of his day surpassed him,and very few equalled him. But of fencing, flirting andbook-writing, he soon got heartily tired. Like his putativeancestors, the gipsies, he could never be happy long in one place.He says, "The thoroughbred wanderer's idiosyncrasy, I presume to bea composition of what phrenologists call inhabitiveness and localityequally and largely developed. After a long and toilsome march,weary of the way, he drops into the nearest place of rest to becomethe most domestic of men. For a while he smokes the pipe ofpermanence with an infinite zest, he delights in various siestasduring the day, relishing withal a long sleep at night; he enjoysdining at a fixed dinner hour, and wonders at the demoralisation ofthe mind which cannot find means of excitement in chit-chat or smalltalk, in a novel or a newspaper. But soon the passive fit haspassed away; again a paroxysm on ennui coming on by slow degrees,viator loses appetite, he walks bout his room all night, he yawnsat conversations, and a book acts upon his as a narcotic. The manwants to wander, and he must do so, or he shall die."[FN#107]

23. Haji Wali, 1853.

As we have seen, Burton, even before he had left Sind, had burned tovisit Mecca. Four years had since elapsed, and his eyes stillturned towards "Allah's holy house." Having obtained another twelvemonths' furlough, in order that he "might pursue his Arabic studiesin lands where the language is best learned," he formed the boldplan of crossing Arabia from Mecca to the Persian Gulf. Ultimately,however, he decided, in emulation of Burckhardt, the great traveler,to visit Medina and Mecca in the disguise of a pilgrim, a feat thatonly the most temerarious of men would have dared even to dream of.He made every conceivable preparation, learning among otherusefulnesses how to forge horse shoes and to shoe a horse. To hisparents and Lady Stisted and her daughters, who were then residingat Bath, he paid several visits, but when he last parted from themwith his usual "Adieu, sans adieu," it did not occur to them thathe was about to leave for good; for he could not--he never could--muster up sufficient courage to say a final "Good-bye." Shortlyafter his departure his mother found a letter addressed to her andin his handwriting. It contained, besides an outline of hisdangerous plans, the instruction that, in case he should be killed,his "small stock of valuables" was to be divided between her andhis sister.

Once more Burton had the keen pleasure of putting on disguise.Richard F. Burton ceased to be, and a muscular and powerful MirzaAbdullah, of Bushire, took his place. "I have always wished tosee," he explained to a friend, "what others have been content tohear of." He wore long hair and Oriental costume, and his face andlimbs were stained with henna. Accompanied by Captain HenryGrindlay of the Bengal Cavalry, he left London for Southampton,3rd April 1853, and thence took steamer for Egypt, without ever athought of Isabel Arundell's blue eye or Rapunzel hair, and utterlyunconscious of the sighs he had evoked. At Alexandria he was theguest of Mr. John Thurburn and his son-in-law, Mr. JohnLarking[FN#108], at their residence "The Sycamores," but he slept inan outhouse in order the better to delude the servants. He read theKoran sedulously, howled his prayers with a local shaykh whoimparted to him the niceties of the faith, purified himself, madean ostentatious display of piety, and gave out that he was a hakimor doctor preparing to be a dervish. As he had some knowledge ofmedicine, this role was an easy one, and his keen sense of humourmade the experience enjoyable enough. On the steamer that carriedhim to Cairo, he fraternized with two of his fellow-passengers,a Hindu named Khudabakhsh and an Alexandrian merchant namedHaji Wali. Haji Wali, whose connection with Burton lasted somethirty years[FN#109], was a middle-aged man with a large round headclosely shaven, a bull neck, a thin red beard, handsome featureswhich beamed with benevolence, and a reputation for wiliness andcupidity. Upon their arrival at Boulak, the port of Cairo.Khudabakhsh, who lived there, invited Burton to stay with him.Hindu-like, Khudabakhsh wanted his guest to sit, talk, smoke,and sip sherbet all day. But this Burton could not endure.Nothing, as he says, suits the English less than perpetual society,"an utter want of solitude, when one cannot retire into one self aninstant without being asked some puerile questions by a companion,or look into a book without a servant peering over one's shoulder."At last, losing all patience, he left his host and went to a khan,where he once more met Haji Wali. They smoked together theforbidden weed hashish, and grew confidential. Following HajiWali's advice, Burton, having changed his dress, now posed as anAfghan doctor, and by giving his patients plenty for their money andby prescribing rough measures which acted beneficially upon theirimaginations, he gained a coveted reputation. He always commencedhis prescriptions piously with: "In the name of Allah,the compassionate, the merciful, and blessings and peace be uponour Lord the Apostle"; and Haji Wali vaunted him as "the veryphoenix of physicians." According to his wont, he never lost anopportunity of learning the ways and customs of the various peopleamong whom he was thrown, or of foisting himself on any company inwhich he thought he could increase his knowledge. His whole lifeindeed was a preparation for "The Arabian Nights." Thus at Cairohe had the good fortune to cure some Abyssinian slave-girls ofvarious complaints, including the "price-lowering habit of snoring,"and in return he made the slave dealer take him about the town andunfold the mysteries of his craft. He also visited theresting-place of his hero, Burckhardt;[FN#110] indeed, in whatevertown he sojourned, he sought out the places associated with theillustrious dead. It was now the Ramazan, and he observed it byfasting, reading the Koran, and saying countless prayers with hisface turned devoutly to the Kiblah.[FN#111] He heartily rejoiced,however, with the multitude when the dreary month was over, and hedescribes[FN#112] amusingly the scenes on the first day followingit: "Most people," he says, "were in fresh suits of finery; and sostrong is personal vanity in the breast of Orientals ... that fromCairo to Calcutta it would be difficult to find a sad heart under ahandsome coat. The men swaggered, the women minced their steps,rolled their eyes, and were eternally arranging, and coquetting withtheir head-veils." In the house of a friend he saw an Armenianwedding. For servant he now took a cowardly and thievish lad namedNur, and, subsequently, he made the acquaintance of a Meccan youth,Mohammed, who was to become his companion throughout the pilgrimage.Mohammed was 18, chocolate brown, short, obese, hypocritical,cowardly, astute, selfish and affectionate. Burton not onlypurchased the ordinary pilgrim garb, but he also took the precautionto attach to his person "a star sapphire," the sight of whichinspired his companions with "an almost reverential awe," and evenled them to ascribe to him thaumaturgic power.[FN#113] His furtherpreparations for the sacred pilgrimage reads rather like a page outof Charles Lever, for the rollicking Irishman was as much inevidence as the holy devotee. They culminated in a drinking boutwith an Albanian captain, whom he left, so to speak, under thetable; and this having got noised abroad, Burton, with hisreputation for sanctity forfeited, found it expedient to set off atonce for Mecca. He sent the boy Nur on to Suez with his baggage andfollowed him soon after on a camel through a "haggard land infestedwith wild beasts and wilder men." At Suez he made the acquaintanceof some Medina and Mecca folk, who were to be his fellow-travellers;including "Sa'ad the Demon," a negro who had two boxes of handsomeapparel for his three Medina wives and was resolved to "travelfree;" and Shaykh Hamid, a "lank Arab foul with sweat," who neversaid his prayers because of the trouble of taking clean clothes outof his box. "All these persons," says Burton, "lost no time inopening the question of a loan. It was a lesson in Orientalmetaphysics to see their condition. They had a twelve days' voyageand a four days' journey before them; boxes to carry, custom housesto face, and stomachs to fill; yet the whole party could scarcely,I believe, muster two dollars of ready money. Their boxes were fullof valuables, arms, clothes, pipes, slippers, sweetmeats, and other'notions,' but nothing short of starvation would have induced themto pledge the smallest article."[FN#114] Foreseeing the advantageof their company, Burton sagaciously lent each of them a littlemoney at high interest, not for the sake of profit, but with a viewto becoming a Hatim Tai,[FN#115] by a "never mind" on settling day.This piece of policy made "the Father of Moustaches," as they calledhim, a person of importance among them. During the delay beforestarting, he employed himself first in doctoring, and then inflirting with a party of Egyptian women the most seductive of whomwas one Fattumah,[FN#116] a plump lady of thirty "fond of flatteryand possessing, like all her people, a voluble tongue." The refrainof every conversation was "Marry me, O Fattumah! O daughter!O female pilgrim." To which the lady would reply coquettishly,"with a toss of the head and a flirting manipulation of her headveil," "I am mated, O young man." Sometimes he imitated herEgyptian accent and deprecated her country women, causing her to getangry and bid him begone. Then, instead of "marry me, O Fattumah,"he would say, "O old woman and decrepit, fit only to carry wood tomarket." This would bring a torrent of angry words, but when theymet again all was forgotten and the flirtations of the day beforewere repeated.

24. The Pilgrim Ship, 6th July 1853.

Burton and his party now embarked on the sambuk which was to takethem to Yambu, the port of Medina. As ninety-seven pilgrims werecrowded on a vessel constructed to carry only sixty, mostextraordinary scenes occurred. Thanks to the exertions of Sa'adthe Demon, Burton and his friends secured places on the poop,the most eligible part of the vessel. They would not be verycomfortable anywhere, Sa'ad explained, but "Allah makes all thingseasy." Sa'ad himself, who was blessed with a doggedness that alwayssucceeds, managed to get his passage free by declaring himself anable seaman. Disturbances soon commenced. The chief offenders weresome Maghrabis, "fine looking animals from the deserts aboutTripoli," the leader of whom, one Maula Ali, "a burly savage,"struck Burton as ridiculously like his old Richmond schoolmaster,the Rev. Charles Delafosse. These gentry tried to force their wayon to the poop, but Sa'ad distributed among his party a number ofash staves six feet long, and thick as a man's wrist. "He shoutedto us," says Burton, "'Defend yourself if you don't wish to be themeat of the Maghrabis!' and to the enemy 'Dogs and sons of dogs!now shall you see what the children of the Arab are.' 'I am Omar ofDaghistan!' 'I am Abdullah the son of Joseph!' 'I am Sa'ad theDemon![FN#117]' we exclaimed." And, Burton, with his turbulentblood well stirred, found himself in the seventh heaven. "To do ourenemies justice," he continues, "they showed no sign of flinching;they swarmed towards the poop like angry hornets, and encouragedeach other with cries of 'Allaho Akbar!' But we had a vantageground about four feet above them, and their short daggers could donothing against our terrible quarter staves. Presently a thoughtstruck me. A large earthen jar full of drinking water, in its heavyframe of wood stood upon the edge of the poop. Seeing anopportunity, I crept up to the jar and rolled it down upon the swarmof assailants. Its fall caused a shriller shriek to rise above theordinary din, for heads, limbs and bodies were sorely bruised by theweight, scratched by the broken potsherds, and wetted by the suddendischarge.[FN#118] The Maghrabis then slunk off towards the end ofthe vessel, and presently solicited peace."

The beauties of the sunrise baffled description. The vessel sailedover a violet sea, and under a sky dappled with agate-colouredclouds. At noon the heat was terrible and all colour melted away,"with the canescence from above." The passengers were sympatheticwith one another, notwithstanding their recent factiousness,and were especially kind to a poor little brown baby, which theyhanded round and nursed by turns, but the heat, the filth, and thestench of the ship defied description. At Mahar, one of the placeswhere they landed, Burton injured his foot with a poisonous thorn,which made him lame for the rest of the pilgrimage. Presently thewelcome profile of Radhwa came in view, the mountain of which theunfortunate Antar[FN#119] sang so plaintively:

"Did Radhwa strive to support my woes, Radhwa itself would be crushed by the weight,"

and on July 17th, after twelve days of purgatory, Burton sprang onshore at Yambu.

25. Medina.

He now dressed himself as an Arab, that is to say, he covered hishead with a red kerchief bordered with yellow, his body with acotton shirt and a camel's hair cloak, while a red sash, a spearand a dagger completed the outfit. Then, having hired some camels,he joined a caravan, consisting of several hundred men and beasts,which was bound for Medina; but his injured foot still incommodedhim. Determined, however, to allow nobody to exceed him in piety,he thrice a day or oftener pounded the sand with his forehead likea true Mussulman.

While passing through one of the mountain gorges the pilgrims wereattacked by a number of predatory Bedouin, led by a ferocious chiefnamed Saad, who fired upon them from the rocks with deadly effect,but, at last, after a journey of 130 miles, they reached Medina,with the great sun-scorched Mount Ohod towering behind it--the holycity where, according to repute, the coffin of Mohammed swungbetween heaven and earth.[FN#120] Medina consisted of three parts,a walled town, a large suburb, with ruinous defences, and a fort.Minarets shot up above the numerous flat roofs, and above allflashed the pride of the city, the green dome that covered the tombof Mohammed. Burton became the guest of the dilatory and dirtyShaykh Hamid. The children of the household, he says, ran about ina half nude state, but he never once set eyes upon the face ofwoman, "unless the African slave girls be allowed the title.Even these at first attempted to draw their ragged veils over theirsable charms." Having dressed themselves in white, Burton and Hamidsallied out for the Prophet's Tomb, Burton riding on a donkeybecause of his lameness. He found the approach to the Mosque chokedup by ignoble buildings, and declares that as a whole it had neitherbeauty nor dignity. Upon entering, he was also disillusioned,for its interior was both mean and tawdry. After various prayersthey visited first the "Hujrah," where they saw the tombs ofMohammed, Abu Bakr, Omar and Fatimah; and afterwards El Rauzah,the Garden situated between the Hujrah and the Prophet's Pulpit,both very celebrated spots. Of the latter, Mohammed said: "Betweenmy house and my pulpit is a garden of the gardens ofparadise."[FN#121] After more prayers they wandered round to theother sights, including the fine Gate of Salvation, the fiveminarets, and the three celebrated pillars, called respectively,Al-Mukhallak, the Pillar of Ayishah, and the Pillar of Repentance.They then made their way to the Mosque of Kuba, some two miles outof the town, and witnessed the entry into Medina of the greatcaravan from Damascus, numbering 7,000 souls--grandees in gorgeouslitters of green and gold, huge white Syrian dromedaries, richlycaparisoned horses and mules, devout Hajis, sherbet sellers,water carriers, and a multitude of camels, sheep and goats.[FN#122]Lastly Burton and his friends pilgrimaged to the holy Mount Ohodwith its graves of "the martyrs;" and to the celebrated Al-Bakia,or Saints' Cemetery, where lie ten thousand of the Prophet'scompanions. On entering the latter they repeated the usualsalutation: "Peace be upon ye, O People of Al-Bakia," and thensought out the principal tombs--namely those of the CaliphOthman,[FN#123] "Our Lady Halimah,"[FN#124] the InfantIbrahim,[FN#125] and about fourteen of Mohammed's wives.[FN#126]The cemetery swarmed with clamorous beggars, who squatted with dirtycotton napkins spread on the ground before them for the reception ofcoins. Some of the women promised to recite Fatihahs for thedonors, and the most audacious seized the visitors by their skirts.Burton laid out three dollars in this way, but though the recipientspromised loudly to supplicate Allah in behalf of his lame foot,it did not perceptibly benefit. Burton's companions hinted that hemight do worse than settle in Medina. "Why not," said one, "open ashop somewhere near the Prophet's Mosque? There thou wilt eat breadby thy skill, and thy soul will have the blessing of being on holyground." Burton, however, wanted to be going forward.

26. Mecca.

On 31st August, after praying "a two-bow prayer," he bade adieu toShaykh Hamid, and with Nur and the boy Mohammed, joined the caravanbound for Mecca, the route taken being the celebrated road throughthe arid Nejd made by Zubaydah, wife of Harun al Rashid. The eventsof the journey were not remarkable, though Mohammed very nearlykilled himself by feeding too liberally on clarified butter anddates mashed with flour. Sometimes Burton cheered the way anddelighted his companions by singing the song of Maysunah, the Arabgirl who longed to get back from the Caliph's palace to the blacktents of her tribe. Everybody got into good humour when he began:

"Oh take these purple robes away, Give back my cloak of camel's hair,"

and they laughed till they fell on their backs when he came to theline where the desert beauty calls her Royal husband a "fatted ass."In truth, they needed something to cheer them, for the sky wasburnished brass, and their goats died like flies. Simoon andsand-pillar threw down the camels, and loathsome vultures readyfor either beast or man hovered above or squabbled around them.To crown their discomforts they were again attached by the Bedouin,whom they dispersed only after a stubborn fight and with the loss ofseveral dromedaries. After passing the classic Wady Laymun, sung bythe Arab poet Labid[FN#127] in lines suggestive of Goldsmith'sDeserted Village, they very piously shaved their heads and donnedthe conventional attire, namely two new cotton cloths with narrowred stripes and fringes; and when the Holy City came in view,the whole caravan raised the cry, "Mecca! Mecca! the Sanctuary!O the Sanctuary! Labbayk! Labbayk!"[FN#128] the voices being notinfrequently broken by sobs.

On entering the gates, Burton and Nur crossed the famous hill Safaand took up their abode with the lad Mohammed. Early next morningthey rose, bathed, and made their way with the crowd to theProphet's Mosque in order to worship at the huge bier-like erectioncalled the Kaaba, and the adjacent semi-circular Hatim's wall.The famous Kaaba, which is in the middle of the great court-yard,looked at a distance like an enormous cube, covered with a blackcurtain, but its plan is really trapeziform. "There at last itlay," cries Burton, "the bourn of my long and weary pilgrimage,realising the plans and hopes of many and many a year,"--the Kaaba,the place of answered prayer, above which in the heaven of heavensAllah himself sits and draws his pen through people's sins."The mirage of fancy invested the huge catafalque and its gloomypall with peculiar charms." Of all the worshippers who clungweeping to the curtain,[FN#129] or who pressed their beating heartsto the sacred black stone built into the Kaaba, none, thoughtBurton, felt for the moment a deeper emotion than he. But he had toconfess the humbling truth that while theirs was the high feeling ofreligious enthusiasm, his was but the ecstasy of gratified pride.Bare-headed and footed and in company with Mohammed, he firstproceeded to the holy well, Zem-Zem, said to be the same that wasshown by God to Hagar.[FN#130] They found the water extremelyunpleasant to the taste, and Burton noticed that nobody drank itwithout making a wry face. It was impossible at first to get nearthe Black Stone owing to the crush of pilgrims. However,they occupied the time in various prayers, blessed the Prophet,and kissed the finger tips of the right hand. They then made theseven Ashwat or circuits, and from time to time raised their handsto their ears, and exclaimed, "In the name of Allah and Allah isomnipotent!" The circuits finished, and it was deemed advisable tokiss the Black Stone. For some minutes Burton stood looking indespair at the swarming crowd of Bedouin and other pilgrims thatbesieged it. But Mohammed was equal to the occasion. Noticing thatmost of those near the Stone were Persians, against whom the Arabshave an antipathy, he interpolated his prayers with insults directedagainst them--one of the mildest being "O hog and brother of ahoggess." This having small effect he collected half-a-dozenstalwart Meccans, "with whose assistance," says Burton, "by sheerstrength, we wedged our way into the thin and light-legged crowd....After reaching the stone, despite popular indignation testifiedby impatient shouts, we monopolised the use of it for at least tenminutes. While kissing it and rubbing hands and forehead upon it,I narrowly observed it, and came away persuaded that it was anaerolite." Burton and his friends next shouldered and fought theirway to the part of the Kaaba called Al Multazem, at which they askedfor themselves all that their souls most desired. Arrived again atthe well Zem-Zem, Burton had to take another nauseous draught andwas deluged with two skinfuls of the water dashed over his head.This causes sins to fall from the spirit like dust. He also saidthe customary prayers at the Makam Ibrahim or Praying Place ofAbraham[FN#131] and other shrines. At last, thoroughly worn out,with scorched feet and a burning head, he worked his way out of theMosque, but he was supremely happy for he had now seen:

The next day he journeyed to the sacred Mount of Arafat, familiar toreaders of The Arabian Nights from the touching story of Abu Hasanand Abu Ja'afar the Leper and[FN#133] he estimated that he was butone of 50,000 pilgrims. The mountain was alive with people, and thehuge camp at its foot had booths, huts and bazaars stocked with allmanner of Eastern delicacies, and crowded with purchasers. Instead,however, of listening to the sermons, Burton got flirting with aMeccan girl with citrine skin and liquescent eyes.

On the third day, mounted on an ass, he made for Muna and took partin the ceremony called Stoning the Devil. He was, however, but oneof a multitude, and, in order to get to the stoned pillar a gooddeal of shouldering and fighting was necessary. Both Burton and theboy Mohammed, however, gained their end, and like the rest of thepeople, vigorously pelted the devil, saying as they did so, "In thename of Allah--Allah is Almighty." To get out of the crowd was asdifficult as it had been to get in. Mohammed received a blow in theface which brought the blood from his nose, and Burton was knockeddown; but by "the judicious use of the knife" he gradually workedhis way into the open again, and piously went once more to have hishead shaved and his nails cut, repeating prayers incessantly.Soon after his return to Mecca, Mohammed ran up to him in intenseexcitement. "Rise, Effendi," he cried, "dress and follow me;the Kaaba is open." The pair then made their way thither withalacrity, and, replies to the officials in charge beingsatisfactory, Mohammed was authoritatively ordered to conduct Burtonround the building. They entered. It was a perilous moment;and when Burton looked at the windowless walls and at the officialsat the door, and thought of the serried mass of excited fanaticsoutside, he felt like a trapped rat. However safe a Christian mighthave been at Mecca, nothing could have preserved him from the readyknives of the faithful if detected in the Kaaba. The very idea waspollution to a Moslem. "Nothing," says Burton, "is more simple thanthe interior of this sacred building. The pavement is composed ofslabs of fine and various coloured marbles. The upper part of thewalls, together with the ceiling, are covered with handsome reddamask, flowered over with gold. The flat roof is upheld by threecross beams, supported in the centre by three columns. Between thecolumns ran bars of metal supporting many lamps said to be of gold."The total expense was eight dollars, and when they got away, the boyMohammed said, "Wallah, Effendi! thou has escaped well! some menhave left their skins behind."

The fifty-five other wonders of the city having been visited,Burton sent on Nur with his heavy boxed to Jeddah, the port ofMecca, and he himself followed soon after with Mohammed. At Jeddahhe saw its one sight, the tomb of Eve, and then bade adieu toMohammed, who returned to Mecca. Having boarded the "Dwarka,"an English ship, he descended to his cabin and after a while emergedwith all his colouring washed off and in the dress of an Englishgentleman. Mirza Abdullah of Bushire, "Father of Moustaches,"was once more Richard Francis Burton. This extraordinary exploitmade Burton's name a household word throughout the world, and turnedit into a synonym for daring; while his book, the Pigrimage toAl-Madinah and Meccah, which appeared the following year, was readeverywhere with wonder and delight. Had he been worldly-wise hewould have proceeded straight to England, where, the lion of thehour, he might have obtained a reward more substantial than merepraise. But he did not show himself until the commotion caused byhis exploit had been half-forgotten, and we shall find him makinga similar mistake some years later, after his return fromTanganyika.[FN#134]

It seems that Burton was known in the army as "Ruffian Dick"--not byway of disparagement, but because of this demonic ferocity as afighter, and because he had "fought in single combat more enemiesthan perhaps any other man of his time." One evening soon after hisreturn from Mecca, a party of officers, including a friend ofBurton's named Hawkins, were lounging outside Shepherd's Hotel atCairo. As they sat talking and smoking, there passed repeatedly infront of them, an Arab, in his loose flowing robes, with headproudly erect, and the peculiar swinging stride of those sons of thedesert. As he strode backwards and forwards he drew nearer andnearer to the little knot of officers, till at last, as he swept by,the flying folds of his burnous brushed against one of the officers."D---- that nigger's impudence!" said the officer; "if he does thatagain, I'll kick him." To his surprise the dignified Arab suddenlyhalted, wheeled round, and exclaimed, "Well, d---- it, Hawkins,that's a fine way to welcome a fellow after two year's absence.""It's Ruffian Dick!" cried the astonished officer.[FN#135]

Perhaps to this period must be assigned the bastinado incident.Burton used to tell the tale[FN#136] as follows: "Once, in Egypt,another man and I were out duck shooting, and we got separated.When I next came in sight of the other man some Turkish soldiers hadtied him up and were preparing to administer the bastinado. As Ihurried to his assistance he said something to the Turks which Icould not catch, and pointed to me. Instantly they untied him andpouncing upon me, tried to put me in his place, while my companiontook to his heels. As they were six to one, they succeeded, and Ihad the very unpleasant experience of being bastinadoed. The firstdozen or two strokes I didn't mind much, but at about the ninetieththe pain was too excruciating for description. When they hadfinished with me I naturally enquired what it was all for. It seemsthat my companion when firing at a duck had accidentally shot anEgyptian woman, the wife of one of the soldiers. Upon my appearancehe had called out in Turkish to the soldiers: 'It was not I whofired the shot, it was that other fellow,' pointing to me.The blackguard has taken good care to keep out of my way eversince."

27. Burton's Delight in Shocking.

The story of Burton's adventures having spread abroad, people nowtook the trouble to invent many incidents that were untrue.They circulated, for example, a grisly tale of a murder which he wasunderstood to have committed on a man who had penetrated hisdisguise,[FN#137] and, the tale continuing to roll, the murderbecame eventually two murders. Unfortunately, Burton was cursedwith a very foolish habit, and one that later did him considerableharm. Like Lord Byron, he delighted to shock. His sister had oftenreproved him for it after his return from India, but withouteffecting a change. Kindly listeners hardly knew how to take him,while the malicious made mischief. One day, in England, when,in the presence of his sister and a lady friend, he had thought fitto enlarge on a number of purely fictitious misdeeds, he was put tosome shame. His sister having in vain tried by signs to stop him,the friend at last cut him short with: "Am I to admire you,Mr. Burton?" And he accepted the reproof. Still, he never brokehimself of this dangerous habit; indeed, when the murder reportspread abroad he seems to have been rather gratified than not;and he certainly took no trouble to refute the calumny.

On another occasion he boasted of his supposed descent fromLouis XIV. "I should have thought," exclaimed a listener, "that youwho have such good Irish blood in your veins would be glad to forgetyour descent from a dishonourable union."

"Oh, no," replied Burton vehemently, "I would rather be the bastardof a king than the son of an honest man."

Though this was at the time simply intended to shock, neverthelessit illustrated in a sense his real views. He used to insist thatthe offspring of illicit or unholy unions were in no way to bepitied if they inherited, as if often the case, the culture orsplendid physique of the father and the comeliness of the mother;and instanced King Solomon, Falconbridge, in whose "largecomposition," could be read tokens of King Richard,[FN#138] and thelist of notables from Homer to "Pedro's son," as catalogued byCamoens[FN#139] who said:

"The meed of valour Bastards aye have claimed By arts or arms, or haply both conjoined."

The real persons to be pitied, he said, were the mentally orphysically weak, whatever their parentage.

28. El Islam.

Burton now commenced to write a work to be called El Islam, or theHistory of Mohammedanism; which, however, he never finished.It opens with an account of the rise of Christianity, his attitudeto which resembled that of Renan.[FN#140] Of Christ he says:"He had given an impetus to the progress of mankind by systematizinga religion of the highest moral loveliness, showing what animperfect race can and may become." He then dilates on St. Paul,who with a daring hand "rent asunder the ties connectingChristianity with Judaism." "He offered to the great family of mana Church with a Diety at its head and a religion peculiarly ofprinciples. He left the moral code of Christianity untouched in itsloveliness. After the death of St. Paul," continues Burton,"Christianity sank into a species of idolatry. The acme ofstupidity was attained by the Stylites, who conceived that mankindhad no nobler end than to live and die upon the capital of a column.When things were at their worst Mohammed first appeared upon thestage of life." The work was published in its unfinished stateafter Burton's death.

With The Kasidah we shall deal in a later chapter, for though Burtonwrote a few couplets at this time, the poem did not take its presentshape till after the appearance of FitzGerald's adaptation ofThe Rubaiyat Oman Khayyam.

Having spent a few weeks in Egypt, Burton returned to Bombay,travelling in his Arab dress. Among those on board was an Englishgentleman, Mr. James Grant Lumsden, senior member of the Council,Bombay, who being struck by Burton's appearance, said to a friend,"What a clever, intellectual face that Arab has!" Burton,overhearing the remark, made some humorous comment in English,and thus commenced a pleasant friendship.

It was while staying at Bombay as Mr. Lumsden's guest that Burton,already cloyed with civilization, conceived the idea ofjourneying, via Zeila in Somaliland, to the forbidden and thereforealmost unknown city of Harar, and thence to Zanzibar.His application to the Bombay Government for permission andassistance having been received favourably, he at once set out forAden, where he stayed with his "old and dear friend," Dr. JohnSteinhauser, who had been appointed civil surgeon there.Steinhauser, a stolid man, whose face might have been carved out ofwood, was, like Burton, an enthusiastic student of The ArabianNights, and their conversation naturally drifted into this subject.Both came to the conclusion that while the name of this wondrousrepertory of Moslem folk-lore was familiar to almost every Englishchild, no general reader could form any idea of its treasures.Moreover, that the door would not open to any but Arabists.But even at the present day, and notwithstanding the editions ofPayne and Burton, there are still persons who imagine thatThe Arabian Nights is simply a book for the nursery. Familiar onlywith some inferior rendering, they are absolutely ignorant of thewealth of wisdom, humour, pathos and poetry to be found in itspages.[FN#141] Writing in 1856, Burton says: "The most familiarbook in England, next to the Bible, it is one of the least known,the reason being that about one-fifth is utterly unfit fortranslation, and the most sanguine Orientalist would not dare torender more than three-quarters of the remainder,[FN#142]consequently the reader loses the contrast--the very essence of thebook--between its brilliancy and dulness, its moral putrefaction andsuch pearls as:

'Cast the seed of good works on the least fit soil; Good is never wasted, however it may be laid out.'

And in a page or two after such divine sentiment, the ladies ofBaghdad sit in the porter's lay, and indulge in a facetiousnesswhich would have killed Pietro Aretino before his time."[FN#143]When the work entitled A Thousand Nights and a Night was commenced,no man knows. There were Eastern collections with that title fourcenturies ago, laboured by the bronzed fingers of Arab scribes;but the framework and some of the tales must have existed prior evento the Moslem conquest. It has been noticed that there areresemblances between the story of Shahryar and that of Ahasuerus asrecorded in Esther. In both narratives the King is offended withhis Queen and chooses a new wife daily. Shahryar has recourse tothe scimitar, Ahasuerus consigns wife after wife to the seclusion ofhis harem. Shahryar finds a model consort in Shahrazad, Ahasuerusin Esther. Each queen saves a multitude from death, each king liesawake half the night listening to stories.[FN#144] While many ofthe stories in The Arabian Nights are ancient, some, as internalevidence proves, are comparatively recent. Thus those of Kamar-al-Zaman II. and Ma'aruf the Cobbler belong to the 16th century;and no manuscript appears to be older than 1548. The most importanteditions are the Calcutta, the Boulac[FN#145] and the Breslau,all of which differ both in text and the order of the stories.The Nights were first introduced into Europe by Antoine Galland,whose French translation appeared between 1704 and 1717. Of theNights proper, Galland presented the public with about a quarter,and he added ten tales[FN#146] from other Eastern manuscripts.An anonymous English edition appeared within a few years.The edition published in 1811 by Jonathan Scott is Galland withomissions and additions, the new tales being from the WortleyMontague MS. now in the Bodleian. In 1838, Henry Torrens began atranslation direct from the Arabic, of which, however, he completedonly one volume, and in 1838-40 appeared the translation direct fromthe Arabic, of which, however, he completed only one volume, and in1838-40 appeared the translation of Edward William Lane,[FN#147]made direct from the Boulac edition. This work, which containsabout one third of the entire Arabian Nights, was a great stepforward, but unfortunately, Lane, who afterwards became an excellentArabic scholar, was but a poor writer, and having no gift of verse,he rendered the poetical portions, that is to say, some ten thousandlines "in the baldest and most prosaic of English."[FN#148]

So Burton and Steinhauser said to themselves, As the public havenever had more than one-third of the Nights, and that translatedindifferently, we will see what we can do. "We agreed," saysBurton, "to collaborate and produce a full, complete, unvarnished,uncastrated, copy of the great original, my friend taking the proseand I the metrical part; and we corresponded upon the subject foryears."[FN#149] They told each other that, having completed theirtask, they would look out for a retreat as a preparation forsenility, some country cottage, perhaps, in the South of France,where, remote from books, papers, pens, ink and telegrams,they could spend their nights in bed and their days in hammocks.Beyond planning the translation, however, nothing was done.Steinhauser died fourteen years later (1866), and whatever noteshe made were dispersed, while Burton, even as late as 1883, had donenothing beyond making a syllabus of the Boulac edition.[FN#150]Still, the scheme was never for very long absent from his thoughts,and during his wanderings in Somaliland, the Tanganyika country andelsewhere, he often delighted the natives by reciting or readingsome of the tales. The history of Burton's translation ofThe Arabian Nights is, as we shall subsequently show, curiouslyanalogous to that of The Kasidah.

30. From Zeila to Harar, 27th November 1854 to 2nd January 1855.

Burton now found that, as regards the projected expedition,his plans would have to be modified, and he finally decided toconfine his explorations to "the great parched horn" of Somaliland.His plan was now to visit Harar via Zeila, and then make forBerbera, in order to join Lieutenant Speke, Herne and Stroyan,who had been authorised to assist him and had arranged to await himthere. The presence at Berbera of Speke and his companions, would,it was supposed, "produce a friendly feeling on the part of Somali,"and facilitate Burton's egress from Harar, should he ever, as was byno means certain, enter alive that dangerous and avoided city.Sir James Outram, then Political Resident at Aden, called theexpedition a tempting of Providence, and tried hard to stop it,but in vain. Burton left Aden for Zeila on October 29th, takingwith him a managing man called "The Hammal," a long, lean Adenpoliceman, nicknamed "Long Gulad" and a suave but rascally Moslempriest dubbed "The End of Time."[FN#151] They landed on October31st, and found Zeila a town of white-washed houses and minarettedmosques, surrounded by a low brown wall with round towers. Burton,who called himself a Moslem merchant, spent three weeks buyingcamels and mules and interviewing guides, while he kept up hisreputation for piety with the customary devotions. According to hiswont, he carefully studied the customs of the people. "One of thepeculiar charms," he says, of the Somali girls, is "a soft, low andplaintive voice," and he notices that "in muscular strength andendurance the women of the Somal are far superior to their lords."The country teems with poets, who praise the persons of the bellesvery much in the style of Canticles, declaring prettily,for example, that their legs are as straight as the "Libi Tree,"and that their hips swell out "like boiled rice." The marriageceremonies, he tells us, are conducted with feasting, music andflogging. On first entering the nuptial hut the bridegroom drawsforth his horsewhip and inflicts chastisement upon his bride,with the view of taming any lurking propensity to shrewishness.As it is no uncommon event to take four wives at once, thishorsewhipping is naturally rather exhausting for the husband.Burton considered polygamy to be indispensable in countries likeSomaliland, "where children are the principal wealth;" but he sawless necessity for it "among highly civilised races where the sexesare nearly equal, and where reproduction becomes a minor duty."However, he would have been glad to see polygamy allowed even inEngland, "if only to get rid of all the old maids," a class that heregarded with unbounded pity. He longed "to see these poor,cankered, angular ladies transformed into cheerful, amiable wiveswith something really to live for." "Man," it was a favouritesaying with him, "is by nature polygamic, whereas woman, as a rule,is monogamic, and polyandrous only when tired of her lover. The manloves the woman, but the love of the woman is for the love of theman." He also agreed with the 18th century Rev. Martin Madan,author of Thelyphthora, a treatise on female ruin, who insisted thatpolygamy would go far to remove one of the great reproaches of thestreets of London and other large cities. "Except in books,"says Burton, "seduction in Mohammedan countries is almost unknown,adultery difficult." That polygamy, however, is no panacea,the following remarks will show. "Both sexes," he says, speaking ofthe Somali, "are temperate from necessity." Drunkenness is unknown.Still, the place is not Arcady. "After much wandering,"he continues, "we are almost tempted to believe that morality is amatter of geography;[FN#152] that nations and races have,like individuals, a pet vice; and that by restraining one,you only exasperate another. As a general rule Somali women preferflirtations with strangers, following the well-known Arabianproverb, 'The new comer filleth the eye.'" Burton was thoroughlyat home in Zeila "with the melodious chant of the muezzin" and theloudly intoned "Amin" and "Allaho Akbar" daily ringing in his ear.He often went into the Mosque, and with a sword and a rosary beforehim, read the "cow chapter"[FN#153] in a loud twanging voice.Indeed, he had played the role of devout Mohammedan so long, that hehad almost become one. The people of Zeila tried to persuade him toabandon his project. "If," said they, "you escape the desert hordesit will only be to fall by the hands of the truculent Amir ofHarar." Nothing, however, could dash Burton's confidence in hisstar, and like Dante, he applied to Fear no epithets but "vile"and "base."

One Raghi, a petty Eesa chief, having been procured as protector ofthe party, and other arrangements having been made, Burton onNovember 27th (1854) set out for his destination by a circuitousroute. Raghi rode in front. Next, leading camels, walked twoenormously fat Somali women; while by the side of the camels rodeBurton's three attendants, the Hammal, Long Gulad, and "The End ofTime," "their frizzled wigs radiant with grease," and their robessplendidly white with borders dazzlingly red. Burton brought up therear on a fine white mule with a gold fringed Arab pad andwrapper-cloth, a double-barrelled gun across his lap, and in thismanner the little caravan pursued its sinuous course over thedesert. At halting places he told his company tales fromThe Arabian Nights; they laughed immoderately at the adventures ofthe little Hunchback; tears filled their eyes as they listened tothe sad fate of Azizah;[FN#154] and the two fat Somali women werepromptly dubbed Shahrazad and Dunyazad. Dunyazad had been as far asAden and was coquettish. Her little black eyes never met Burton's,and frequently with affected confusion she turned her sable cheekthe clean contrary way. Attendant on the women was a Zeila lad,who, being one-eyed, was pitilessly called "The Kalandar." At theirfirst halting place, Burton astonished the natives by shooting avulture on the wing. "Lo!" cried the women, "he bringeth down thebirds from heaven." On their way through an ochreish Goban,or maritime plain, they passed huge hills made by white ants,Gallas graves planted with aloe,[FN#155] and saw in the distancetroops of gazelles. They were now in the Isa country, "Traitorousas an Isa" being a Zeila proverb. Though the people were robbersand murderers, Burton, by tact, got on excellently with them,and they good-naturedly offered him wives. At every settlementthe whole population flocked to see him, the female portion loudlyexpressing their admiration for him. "Come girls, "they cried oneto another, "come and look at this white stranger." According toRaghi, the fair face of a French lady who had recently landed atBerbera, "made every man hate his wife, and every wife hateherself." Once they were attacked by Bedouin, who, however,on hearing the report of Burton's revolver, declared that theywere only in fun. Others who tried to stop them were shown the starsapphire, and threatened with "sorcery, death, wild beasts,"and other unpleasantnesses. At a place called Aububah, Raghirelinquished the charge of the caravan to some men of theGudabirsi tribe, who led the way to the village of Wilensi, wherethey were the guests of the household of a powerful chief calledJirad Adan. Here Burton left Shahrazad, Dunyazad and the Kalandar,and proceeded to Sagharrah, where he met and formed a friendshipwith Jirad Adan. For several days he was prostrated by fever,and some Harar men who looked in tried to obtain him as a prisoner.The Jirad acted honourably, but he declined to escort Burton toHarar. "No one," he said, "is safe in the Amir's clutches, and Iwould as soon walk into a crocodile's mouth as set foot in thecity." "Nothing then remained," says Burton, "but payerd'audace,[FN#156] and, throwing all forethought to the dogs, to relyupon what has made many a small man great, the good star.I addressed my companions in a set speech, advising a mount withoutdelay."[FN#157] The End of Time, having shown the white feather,was left behind, but the rest courageously consented to accompanytheir leader. "At 10 a.m. on the 2nd January," says Burton,"all the villagers assembled, and recited the Fatihah, consoling uswith the information that we were dead men." The little company,carrying their lives in their hands, then set forward, and presentlycame in sight of Harar, "a dark speck upon a tawny sheet ofstubble." Arrived at the gate of the town, they accosted thewarder, sent their salaams to the Amir, and requested the honourof audience.

31. At Harar.

They were conducted to the palace, a long, single-storied,windowless barn of rough stone and reddish clay. Says Burton:"I walked into a vast hall between two long rows of Galla spearmen,between whose lines I had to pass. They were large, half-nakedsavages, standing like statues with fierce, movable eyes, each oneholding, with its butt end on the ground, a huge spear, with a headthe size of a shovel. I purposely sauntered down them coolly with aswagger, with my eyes fixed upon their dangerous-looking faces.I had a six-shooter concealed in my waist-belt, and determined,at the first show of excitement, to run up to the Amir, and put itto his head, if it were necessary, to save my own life." The Amirwas an etiolated young man of twenty-four or twenty-five, plain andthin-bearded, with a yellow complexion, wrinkled brows andprotruding eyes. He wore a flowing robe of crimson cloth,edged with snowy fur, and a narrow white turban tightly twistedround a tall, conical cap of red velvet. On being asked his errand,Burton replied politely in Arabic that he had come from Aden inorder to bear the compliments of the governor, and to see the lightof his highness's countenance. On the whole, the Amir was gracious,but for some days Burton and his party were in jeopardy, and when hereflected that he was under the roof of a bigoted and sanguinaryprince, whose filthy dungeons resounded with the moans of heavilyironed, half-starved prisoners; among a people who detestedforeigners; he, the only European who had ever passed over theirinhospitable threshold, naturally felt uncomfortable. The Amir,it seems, had four principal wives, and an army of 200 men armedchiefly with daggers. Burton describes the streets of Harar asdirty narrow lanes heaped with garbage, and the houses as situatedat the bottom of courtyards, closed by gates of holcus stalks.The town was proud of its learning and sanctity, and venerated thememory of several very holy and verminous saints. Neither sexpossessed personal attractions, and the head-dresses of the womenseen from behind resembled a pawnbroker's sign, except that theywere blue instead of gilt. The people lived chiefly on holcus,and a narcotic called "jat," made by pounding the tender twigs of atree of the same name. "It produced in them," says Burton,"a manner of dreamy enjoyment, which exaggerated by time anddistance, may have given rise to that splendid myth the Lotos andthe Lotophagi.[FN#158] Their chief commodity was coffee, theirfavourite drink an aphrodisiac made of honey dissolved in hot water,and strained and fermented with the bark of a tree called kudidah."Although unmolested, Burton had no wish to remain long at Harar,and when on 13th January he and his party took their departure itwas with a distinct feeling of relief.

32. From Harar to Berbera. 13th Jan. 1855-5th Feb. 1855.

At Sagharrah they found again the pusillanimous "End of Time,"and at Wilensi they were rejoined by Shahrazad, Dunyazad and theone-eyed Kalandar. Persons who met Burton and his friends enquiredIrish-like if they were the party who had been put to death by theAmir of Harar. Everyone, indeed, was amazed to see them not onlyalive, but uninjured, and the Frank's temerity became the talk ofthe desert. Burton now put the two women, the Kalandar, the camels,and the baggage, under the care of a guide, and sent them to Zeila,while he himself and the men made straight for Berbera.The journey, which led them past Moga's tooth[FN#159] and Gogaysa,was a terrible one, for the party suffered tortures from thirst,and at one time it seemed as though all must perish. By goodfortune, however, they ultimately came upon some pools. Any fearthat might have haunted them, lest the water should be poisonous,was soon dispelled, for it contained a vast number of tadpoles andinsects, and was therefore considered quite harmless and suitablefor drinking. For many hours they again plodded on beneath a brazensky. Again thirst assailed them; and, like Ishmael in the desert ofZin, they were ready to cast themselves down and die. This timethey were saved by a bird, a katta or sand grouse, which they sawmaking for some hills; and having followed it, they found, as theyhad anticipated, a spring of water, at which they frenziedly slakedtheir thirst. Many other difficulties and troubles confronted themin their subsequent march, but at last they heard (delightfulsound!) the murmur of the distant sea. Every man was worn out,with the exception of the Hammal, who, to Burton's delight, not onlytalked, but sang and shouted. Finally they reached Berbera,where they found Speke, Herne and Stroyan, and on 5th February,Burton in company with the Hammal, Long Gulad, and The End of Time,set sail for Aden, calling on their way at Siyaro and Anterad,east of Berbera.

The first news Burton had on arriving there was of the death of hismother, which had occurred 18th December 1854, at the time he layill at Sagharrah. Always immersed in him, she used to say, when heleft her, "It seems as if the sun itself has disappeared." He,on his part, often bore witness to the unselfishness andblamelessness of her life, generally adding, "It is very pleasantto be able to feel proud of one's parents."

33. The Fight at Berbera, 22nd April, 1855.

Unable to let well alone, Burton now wanted to make a newexpedition, this time to the Nile, via Berbera and Harar, and on alarger and more imposing scale. On 7th April he was back again atBerbera, taking with him Speke, Stroyan, Herne and 42 assistants,and his first care was to establish an agency on the coast, so as tohave the protection of the English gunboat, the "Mahi," which hadbrought them. Unfortunately, the Government drew off the gunboat,and this had scarcely been done before Burton and his party wereattacked by 300 natives, who swarmed round them during the night,and tried to entrap and entangle them by throwing down the tents.A desperate hand-to-hand fight then ensued. Javelins hissed,war-clubs crashed. The forty-two coloured auxiliaries promptly tookto their heels, leaving the four Englishmen to do as they could.Stroyan fell early in the fight. Burton, who had nothing but asabre, fought like a demon; Speke, on his left near the entranceof the tent, did deadly execution with a pair of revolvers; Herne onhis right emptied into the enemy a sixshooter, and then hammered itwith the butt end. Burton, while sabreing his way towards the sea,was struck by a javelin, which pierced both cheeks, and struck outfour of his teeth. Speke received eleven wounds, from which,however, he took no harm--a touching proof, comments Burton, of howdifficult it is to kill a man in sound health. Eventually thesurvivors, stained with blood, and fearfully exhausted, butcarrying, nevertheless, the corpse of poor Stroyan, managed toreach a friendly native craft, which straightway took them backto Aden.[FN#160]

Chapter VIII 9th February 1855-October 1856 The Crimea

Bibliography:

14. First Footsteps in East Africa, 1856.

34. The Crimea.

Owing to his wounds Burton had to return to England, and, on hisfirst opportunity, he gave an account of his explorations beforethe Royal Geographical Society. Little, however, was now talked ofexcept the Crimean War, which had commenced, it will be rememberedin March 1854. The Allies landed in the Crimea in September,Inkermann was fought on the 5th of November, and then followed thetedious siege of Sebastopol. Burton had not long been home beforehe applied for and obtained leave to join the besieging army; andhis brother Edward also went out as surgeon, about the same time.Emulous of the deeds of Napier and Outram, Burton now thought he sawa career of military glory awaiting him. Soon after his arrival atthe seat of war he was appointed chief of the staff to GeneralBeatson, and in his "gorgeous uniform blazing with gold" he setvigorously to work to re-organize and drill his contingent ofBashi-Bazouks. He had great difficulties with Beatson, a brave,but passionate and undiplomatic old warrior; but he succeededmarvellously with his men, and his hope of winning fame rose higherthan ever. The war, however, was crawling to an end, and the troopshe had drilled so patiently had little to do beside look on.At this conjuncture he thought he saw a road to success in therelief of Kars, which had been persistently besieged by theRussians. Elated at the prospect of taking part in a great militaryfeat, he hurried to Constantinople, obtained an interview with theBritish Ambassador, Lord Stratford, and submitted a plan forapproval. To his amazement, Lord Stratford broke into a toweringpassion, and called him "the most impudent man in the Bombay Army."Later Burton understood in what way he had transgressed. As the warwas closing, it had been arranged by the Allies that Kars should beallowed to fall as a peace offering to Russia.

Burton now began to suffer from the untrue tales that were toldabout him, still he never troubled to disprove them. Some werecirculated by a fellow officer of his--an unmitigated scoundrelwhose life had been sullied by every species of vice; who not onlyinvented calumniating stories but inserted particulars that gavethem a verisimilitude. Two of this man's misdeeds may be mentioned.First he robbed the Post Office at Alexandria, and later heunblushingly unfolded to Lord Stanley of Alderley his plan ofmarrying an heiress and of divorcing her some months later with aview to keeping, under a Greek law, a large portion of her income.He seemed so certain of being able to do it that Lord Stanleyconsulted a lady friend, and the two together succeeded infrustrating the infamous design. This sordid and callous rascaltried hard to lead people to suppose that he and Burton were handand glove in various kinds of devilry, and a favourite phrase in hismouth was "I and Burton are great scamps." Percy Smythe[FN#161]then an official under Lord Stratford, commented on hearing thesaying: "No, that won't do, ---- is a real scamp, but Burton is onlywild." One story put abroad apparently by the same scoundrel isstill in circulation. We are told that Burton was once caught in aTurkish harem, and allowed to escape only after suffering the usualindescribable penalty. As this was the solitary story that reallyannoyed Burton, we think it our duty to say that conclusivedocumentary evidence exists proving that, whether or not he everbroke into a harem, he most certainly underwent no deprivation.Other slanders of an even more offensive nature got abroad.Pious English mothers loathed Burton's name, and even men of theworld mentioned it apologetically. In time, it is true, he livedall this down, still he was never--he is not now--generally regardedas a saint worthy of canonization.

With the suspension of General Beatson--for the machinations ofenemies ultimately accomplished the old hero's fall--Burton'sconnection with the Crimean army abruptly ceased. Having sent inhis resignation, he returned to England and arrived here just intime to miss, to his disappointment, his brother Edward, who hadagain left for Ceylon. Edward's after career was sad enough to drawtears from adamant. During an elephant hunt a number of natives setupon him and beat him brutally about the head. Brain troubleensued, and he returned home, but henceforth, though he attaineda green old age, he lived a life of utter silence. Except on onesolitary occasion he never after--and that is to say for fortyyears--uttered a single word. Always resembling a Greek statue,there was now added to him the characteristic of all statues,rigid and solemn silence. From a man he had become aching marble.To Burton, with his great, warm, affectionate heart, Edward'saffliction was an unceasing grief. In all his letters he enquirestenderly after his "dear brother," and could truly say, with theenemy of his boyhood, Oliver Goldsmith:

Arrived in England, General Beatson promptly instituted civilproceedings against his enemies; and Burton was in constantexpectation of being subpoenaed. He thoroughly sympathized withBeatson, but he had no wish to be forced to remain in London, justas he had no wish at any time in his life to be mewed up anywhere.Consequently he disguised himself by wearing green spectacles andtying a pillow over his stomach to simulate corpulence. To onefriend who met him, he made himself known. "Are you really Burton?"inquired his friend. "I shall be," replied Burton, "but just nowI'm a Greek doctor." Burton's conscience, however, finally had themastery. He did attend the trial and he corroborated the statementsof his late chief. The verdict of the jury went against Beatson,but it was generally felt that the old war dog had fully vindicatedhis character.

35. Engaged to Isabel Arundell, August 1856.

In August, after a lapse of four years, Burton renewed acquaintancewith Isabel Arundell, who one day met him, quite by accident, in theBotanical Gardens, and she kept meeting him there quite by accidentevery day for a fortnight. He had carried his life in his hand toMecca and to Harar, he had kept at bay 200 Somalis, but like the manin Camoens, he finally fell by "a pair of eyes."[FN#163] Accordingto Lady Burton,[FN#164] it was Burton who made the actual proposal;and it is just possible.

"You won't chalk up 'Mother will be angry' now I hope," said Burton.

"Perhaps not," replied Miss Arundell, "but she will be allthe same."

Mrs. Arundell, indeed, like so many other English mothers,was violently prejudiced against Burton. When her daughter broachedthe subject she replied fiercely: "He is not an old EnglishCatholic, or even a Catholic, he has neither money nor prospects."She might also have added that he was apt to respect mere men ofintellect more than men of wealth and rank, an un-English traitwhich would be sure to militate against his advancement.

Miss Arundell bravely defended her lover, but without effect.A few days later she again met her old gipsy crone Hagar Burton,who repeated her sibylline declaration. As Miss Arundell never,by any chance, talked about anything or anybody except Burton,and as she paid liberally for consulting the Fates, this declarationnecessarily points to peculiar acumen on the part of the gipsy.

At one of their meetings Miss Arundell put round Burton's neck asteel chain with a medal of the Virgin Mary and begged him to wearit all his life. Possessing a very accommodating temperament inmatters that seemed to himself of no vital importance, he consented;so it joined the star-sapphire and other amulets, holy and unholy,which, for different purposes, he carried about the world.

That this medal had often acted as a preservative to Burton she wasin after life thoroughly convinced.

Chapter IX The Unveiling of Isis December 1856-21st May 1859

Bibliography:

15. Lake Regions of Equatorial Africa.16. Vol. 33 of the Royal Geographical Society.

36. To Fuga. January to March 1857.

The fame of a soldier having been denied him, Burton now turned histhoughts once more to exploration; and his eagerness for renown isrevealed conspicuously in some verses written about this time.They commence:

"I wore thine image, Fame, Within a heart well fit to be thy shrine! Others a thousand boons may gain; One wish was mine."

He hoped to obtain one of its smiles and then die. A glorious handseemed to beckon him to Africa. There he was to go and find hisdestiny. The last stanza runs:

"Mine ear will hear no other sound, No other thought my heart will know. Is this a sin? Oh, pardon, Lord! Thou mad'st me so."

He would obtain the fame of a great traveller; the earth should rollup for him as a carpet. Happy indeed was Isabel Arundell when heplaced the verses in her hand, but melancholy to relate, he alsopresented copies to his "dear Louisa," and several other dears.

He now read greedily all the great geographers, ancient and modern,and all the other important books bearing on African exploration.If he became an authority on Herodotus, Pliny, Ptolemy, Strabo,and Pomponious Mela, he became equally an authority on Bruce,Sonnini, Lacerda, the Pombeiros, Monteiro and Gamitto.

From Ptolemy downwards writers and travellers had prayed for theunveiling of Isis, that is to say, the discovery of the sources ofthe Nile; but for two thousand years every effort had provedfruitless. Burning to immortalize himself by wresting from themysterious river its immemorial secret, Burton now planned anexpedition for that purpose. Thanks to the good offices of LordClarendon, Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, the RoyalGeographical Society promised him the necessary funds; whileCardinal Wiseman, ever his sincere friend, gave him a passport toall Catholic missionaries.[FN#165] To Burton, as we have seen,partings were always distressing, and in order to avoid biddingadieu to Miss Arundell he adopted his usual course, leaving a letterwhich mentioned love and that he was gone.

He quitted England for Bombay in October 1856, and crossed toZanzibar in the Elphinstone sloop of war, Speke, who was to be hiscompanion in the expedition, sailing with him. Burton was in thehighest spirits. "One of the gladdest moments in human life," hewrote, "is the departing upon a distant journey into unknown lands.Shaking off with one effort the fetters of habit, the leaden weightof routine, the slavery of civilisation,[FN#166] man feels once morehappy. The blood flows with the fast circulation of youth,excitement gives a new vigour to the muscles and a sense of suddenfreedom adds an inch to the stature." Among the crew was amidshipman, C. R. Low, who became a life-long friend of Burton.Says Mr. Low, "We used to have bouts of single-stick in the pleasantevening sin the poop, and many's the time he has blacked my arms andlegs with his weapons. ... Though a dangerous enemy, he was a warmand constant friend."[FN#167] On reaching Zanzibar, Burton, findingthe season an unsuitable one for the commencement of his greatexpedition, resolved to make what he called "a preliminary canter."So he and Speke set out on a cruise northward in a crazy old Arab"beden" with ragged sails and worm-eaten timbers. They carried withthem, however, a galvanised iron life-boat, "The Louisa," namedafter Burton's old love, and so felt no fear.

They passed the Island of Pemba, and on the 22nd reached Mombasa,which Burton was glad to visit on account of its associations withCamoens, who wrote

So near that islet lay along the land, Nought save a narrow channel stood atween; And rose a city throned on the strand, Which from the margent of the seas was seen; Fair built with lordly buildings tall and grand As from its offing showed all its sheen, Here ruled a monarch for long years high famed, Islet and city are Mombasa named.[FN#168]

Indeed he never missed an opportunity of seeing spots associatedwith his beloved "Master." Then they turned southward and onFebruary 3rd reached Pangany, whence, in company with a facetiousfellow named Sudy Bombay, they set out on a canoe and foot journeyto Fuga, which they found to be "an unfenced heap of hay cock huts."Though a forbidden city to strangers they managed to get admittanceby announcing themselves as "European wizards and Waganga ofpeculiar power over the moon, the stars, the wind and the rain."They found the sultan of the place, an old man named Kimwere, sick,emaciated and leprous. He required, he said, an elixir which wouldrestore him to health, strength, and youth. This, however, despitehis very respectable knowledge of medicine, Burton was not able tocompound, so after staying two days he took his leave. "It made mesad," says Burton, "to see the wistful, lingering look with whichthe poor old king accompanied the word Kuahery! (Farewell!)" On thereturn journey Speke shot a hippopotamus which he presented to thenatives, who promptly ate it. By the time Pangany was again reachedboth travellers were in a high fever; but regarding it simply as aseasoning, they felt gratified rather than not. When the Zanzibarboat arrived Speke was well enough to walk to the shore, but Burton"had to be supported like a bedridden old woman."

37. Zanzibar to Tanganyika, 26th June 1857 to 26th May 1858.

Burton left Zanzibar on his great expedition at the end of June,carrying with him various letters of introduction from the Sultan ofZanzibar, a diploma signed by the Shaykh El Islam of Mecca, and thepassport already mentioned of Cardinal Wiseman. To hisstar-sapphire he added some little canvas bags containing horsechestnuts which he carried about "against the Evil Eye, and as acharm to ward off sickness."[FN#169] Beside Burton and Speke,the party consisted of two Goa boys, two negro gun-carriers,Sudy Bombay, and ten Zanzibar mercenaries. Dr. Steinhauser,who had hoped to join them, was restrained by illness. "My desire,"says Burton, "was to ascertain the limits of Tanganyika Lake,to learn the ethnography of its tribes, and to determine the exportof the produce of the interior." He held the streams that fedTanganyika to be the ultimate sources of the Nile; and believed thatthe glory of their discovery would be his. Fortune, however,the most fickle of goddesses, thought fit to deprive him of thisardently coveted boon.

The explorers landed at Wale Point on June 26th, and on July 14threached K'hutu. At Dug'humi Burton, despite his bags of chestnuts,fell with marsh fever, and in his fits he imagined himself to be"two persons who were inimical to each other," an idea very suitablefor a man nursing the "duality" theory. When he recovered, freshmisfortunes followed, and finally all the riding asses died.Burton, however, amid it all, managed to do one very humane action.He headed a little expedition against a slave raider, and had thesatisfaction of restoring five poor creatures to their homes.

The tropical vegetation and the pleasant streams afforded delightfulvistas both by daylight and moonlight, but every mile the travellerswere saddened by the sight of clean-picked skeletons or swollencorpses. Sometimes they met companies of haggard, heavy-gaited menand women half blind with small-pox--the mothers carrying on theirbacks infants as loathsome as themselves. Near every kraal stooddetached huts built for the diseased to die in. They passed fromthis God-forsaken land to a district of springs welling with sweetwater, calabashes and tamarinds, and circlets of deep, dew-fedverdure. The air was spicy, and zebras and antelopes browsed in thedistance. Then the scene again changed, and they were in a slimy,malarious swamp. They were bitten by pismires an inch long, and bythe unmerciful tzetze fly. The mercenaries, who threatened todesert, rendered no assistance, and the leader, one Said bin Salim,actually refused to give Burton a piece of canvas to make a tent.Sudy Bombay then made a memorable speech, "O Said," he said, "if youare not ashamed of your master, be at least ashamed of his servant,"a rebuke that had the effect of causing the man to surrender at oncethe whole awning. At other times the star-sapphire which Burtoncarried on his person proved a valuable auxiliary--and convincedwhere words failed. But the mercenaries, mistaking Burton'sforbearance for weakness, became daily bolder and more insolent,and they now only awaited a convenient opportunity to kill him.One day as he was marching along, gun over shoulder and dagger inhand, he became conscious that two of his men were unpleasantlynear, and after a while one of them, unaware that Burton understoodhis language, urged the other to strike. Burton did not hesitate amoment. Without looking round, he thrust back his dagger,and stabbed the man dead on the spot.[FN#170] The other, who fellon his knees and prayed for mercy, was spared. This, however, didnot cure his followers of their murderous instincts, and a littlelater he discovered another plot. The prospective assassins havingpiled a little wood where they intended to kindle a fire, went offto search for more. While they were gone Burton made a hole underthe wood and buried a canister of gunpowder in it. On their returnthe assassins lighted the fire, seated themselves comfortably round,and presently there weren't any assassins. We tell these tales justas Burton told them to his intimate friends. The first may havebeen true, the second, we believe, simply illustrates his inveteratehabit of telling tales against himself with the desire to shock.In any circumstances, his life was in constant peril; but he and themajority of the party, after unexampled tortures from thirst,arrived footsore and jaded in a veritable land of Goshen--Kazeh orUnyanyembe, where they met some kindly Arab merchants.

"What a contrast," exclaims Burton, "between the open-handedhospitality and the hearty good-will of this noble race--the Arabs--and the niggardliness of the savage and selfish African. It washeart of flesh after heart of stone." Burton found the Arabs ofKazeh living comfortably and even sybaritically. They had large,substantial houses, fine gardens, luxuries from the coast and"troops of concubines and slaves." Burton gallantly gives theladies their due. "Among the fair of Yombo," he says, "there wereno fewer than three beauties--women who would be deemed beautiful inany part of the world. Their faces were purely Grecian; they hadlaughing eyes their figures were models for an artist with--

"Turgide, brune, e ritondette mamme."

like the 'bending statue' that delights the world. The dress--a short kilt of calabash fibre--rather set off than concealed theircharms, and though destitute of petticoat they were whollyunconscious of indecorum. These beautiful domestic animalsgraciously smiled when in my best Kenyamwezi I did my devoir tothe sex; and the present of a little tobacco always secured for mea seat in the undress circle."

Of the native races of West Africa Burton gave a graphic accountwhen he came to write the history of this expedition.[FN#171]All, it seems, had certain customs in common. Every man drankheavily, ate to repletion and gambled. They would hazard firsttheir property and then themselves. A negro would stake his agedmother against a cow. As for morality, neither the word nor thething existed among them. Their idea of perfect bliss was totalintoxication. When ill, they applied to a medicine man, who havingreceived a fee used it for the purpose of getting drunk, but uponhis return to sobriety, he always, unless, of course, the patienttook upon himself to die, instead of waiting, attendedconscientiously to his duties. No self-respecting chief was eversober after mid-day. Women were fattened for marriage just as pigsare fattened for market--beauty and obesity being interchangeableterms. The wearisome proceedings in England necessary to a divorce,observes Burton, are there unknown. You turn your wife out ofdoors, and the thing is done.

The chief trouble at Kazeh, as elsewhere, arose from the greenscorpion, but there were also lizards and gargantuan spiders.Vermin under an inch in length, such as fleas, ants, and mosquitoes,were deemed unworthy of notice. The march soon began again,but they had not proceeded many miles before Burton fell withpartial paralysis brought on my malaria; and Speke, whom Burtonalways called "Jack," became partially blind. Thoughts of the elmyfields and the bistre furrows of Elstree and the tasselled coppicesof Tours crowded Burton's brain; and he wrote:

"I hear the sound I used to hear, The laugh of joy, the groan of pain, The sounds of childhood sound again Death must be near."

At last, on the 13th February they saw before them a long streak oflight. "Look, master, look," cried Burton's Arab guide, "behold thegreat water!" They advanced a few yards, and then an enormousexpanse of blue burst into sight. There, in the lap of itssteel-coloured mountains, basking in the gorgeous tropical sunshine,lay the great lake Tanganyika. The goal had been reached; by hisdaring, shrewdness and resolution he had overcome all difficulties.Like the soldiers in Tacitus, in victory he found all things--health, vigour, abundance.

No wonder Burton felt a marvellous exultation of spirits when heviewed this great expanse of waters. Here, he thought, are thesources of that ancient river--the Nile. Now are fulfilled thelonging of two thousand years. I am the heir of the ages! Havinghired "a solid built Arab craft," the explorers made their way firstto Ujiji and then to Uvira, the northernmost point of the lake,which they reached on April 26th. On their return voyage they werecaught in a terrible storm, from which they did not expect to besaved, and while the wild tumbling waves threatened momentarily toengulf them a couplet from his fragmentary Kasidah kept running inBurton's mind:

"This collied night, these horrid waves, these gusts that sweep the whirling deep; What reck they of our evil plight, who on the shore securely sleep?"[FN#172]

However, they came out of this peril, just as they had come out ofso many others. Burton also crossed the lake and landed inKazembe's country,[FN#173] in which he was intensely interested,and some years later he translated into English the narratives ofDr. Lacerda[FN#174] and other Portuguese travellers who had visitedits capital, Lunda, near Lake Moero.

38. The Return Journey, 26th May 1858 to 13th February 1859.

The explorers left Tanganyika for the return journey to Zanzibar onMay 26th. At Yombo, reached June 18th, Burton received a packet ofletters, which arrived from the coast, and from one he learnt of thedeath of his father, which had occurred 8 months previous. Despitehis researches, Colonel Burton was not missed in the scientificworld, but his son sincerely mourned a kind-hearted and indulgentparent. At Kazeh, Fortune, which had hitherto been so favourable,now played Burton a paltry trick. Speke having expressed a wish tovisit the lake now called Victoria Nyanza, a sheet of water whichreport declared to be larger than Tanganyika, Burton, for variousreasons, thought it wiser not to accompany him. So Speke went aloneand continued his march until he reached the lake, the dimensions ofwhich surpassed his most sanguine expectations. On his return toKazeh he at once declared that the Victoria Nyanza and its affluentswere the head waters of the Nile, and that consequently he haddiscovered them. Isis (he assured Burton) was at last unveiled.As a matter of fact he had no firmer ground for making thatstatement than Burton had in giving the honour to Tanganyika,and each clung tenaciously to his own theory. Speke, indeed, had avery artistic eye. He not only, by guess, connected his lake withthe Nile, but placed on his map a very fine range of mountains whichhad no existence--the Mountains of the Moon. However, the factremains that as regards the Nile his theory turned out to be thecorrect one. The expedition went forward again, but his attitudetowards Burton henceforth changed. Hitherto they had been the bestof friends, and it was always "Dick" and "Jack," but now Spekebecame querulous, and the mere mention of the Nile gave him offence.Struck down with the disease called "Little Irons," he thought hewas being torn limb from limb by devils, giants, and lion-headeddemons, and he made both in his delirium and after his recovery allkinds of wild charges against Burton, and interlarded his speechwith contumelious taunts--his chief grievance being Burton's refusalto accept the Victoria Nyanza-Nile theory. But Burton made noretort. On the contrary, he bore Speke's petulance with infinitepatience. Perhaps he remembered the couplet in his favouriteBeharistan:

"True friend is he who bears with all His friend's unkindness, spite and gall."[FN#175]

There is no need for us to side either with Speke or Burton.Both were splendid men, and their country is proud of them. Fevers,hardships, toils, disappointments, ambition, explain everything, andit is quite certain that each of the explorers inwardly recognisedthe merit of the other. They reached Zanzibar again 4th March 1859.

Had Burton been worldly wise he would have at once returned home,but he repeated the mistake made after the journey to Mecca and wasagain to suffer from it.

Speke, on the other hand, who ever had an eye to the main chance,sailed straight for England, where he arrived 9th May 1859. He atonce took a very unfair advantage of Burton "by calling at the RoyalGeographical Society and endeavouring to inaugurate a newexploration" without his old chief. He was convinced, he said,that the Victoria Nyanza was the source of the Nile, and he wishedto set the matter at rest once and for every by visiting its